POEMS OF JAMES RYDER RANDALL
From the dome of Sophia to Stephen’s tall spire
It swept in its fury and coughed in its ire.
The Kaiser succumbed before set of sun
And cried: “Better far Kossuth or the Hun!”
But the Hun was himself loaded up with quinine,
While Bismarck felt humbled at Canossa’s shrine,
For the head of the haughty takes a cyclonic dip
When it feels the congestion of Madame La Grippe!
The Berlin professors went down in despair
And their scholars tore Greek, by the roots, from their hair,
The Titans who humbled the nations are weak,
While their battle-cry sinks to a sad nasal squeak.
The Emperor William grows weary of beer,
And wiltedly “ambles away on his ear.”
The White Lady scare and the pale Phantom Ship
Are nothing in horror like Madame La Grippe!
It tweaked the Republic of France by the nose,
And a new reign of terror insistently rose.
The dust of Napoleon quivered perhaps
With the cruel, catarrhal, convulsive collapse.
The Socialist demon declined to conspire,
For his backbone was seared by St. Anthony’s fire.
The sirens who smile to beguile on the road
Felt their jewels a curse, like the head of a toad,
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